


dichotomichal (declarations of love)

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Experimental, F/M, Parseltongue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two different declarations of love.<br/>Based on prompt: "Eight letters. Three syllables. Say them, and I'm yours."</p>
            </blockquote>





	dichotomichal (declarations of love)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be my fill for Interhouse Fest this year, before I dropped out.  
> (Based on Prompt #183: "Eight letters. Three syllables. Say them, and I'm yours." ~ Gossip Girl) 
> 
> Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR. This fanwork was written for entertainment, not profit.

 

"I love you," he tells her. Calmly, evenly-- in measured, plain English.

 

She's silent, nervously so. She looks at him, the first boy she's ever loved, and weighs up the words in her mind.

 

He waits for one minute, two. Gets impatient. "It's just--"

 

"Three simple little words. I know," she says. She presses her lips shut, perhaps in preparation. 

 

"Eight letters," he continues, as if daring her. 

 

It's a stock phrase in any rational person's arsenal for seduction. (Including hers. His, too.)

 

 He folds his arms. "Only three syllables."

 

Slytherins can lie through their teeth. (She does it practically all the time.)

 

"Say them and I'm yours." An ultimatum. 

 

Green eyes meet grey.

 

Her pause drags on. And on. 

 

(Courage is not her forte, after all.)

 

* * *

 

 

(Even now, courage is not her forte.) 

 

She breaks the humid tension, reaches to embrace him.

 

Her light touch finds warm, freckled skin.

 

There's a silent imploration from him. _Don't say anything if you can't._

 

Like his Housemates, he is honest to a fault. (She's honest, when it comes to matters of the heart.) 

 

"So, the words." His fingers trace a trail down her spine. 

 

There's a high likelihood that nobody in the world has ever said them before. (She'll be the first. He, second.)

 

Pressing a kiss to her temple, "Are they even words? Hard to tell."

 

"Hard to say, you mean." She's been practising.  

 

She's ready.

 

She smiles up at him, this infuriating man she's head over heels for. Merlin help her. "áj jú rɑ́nəld lə́v." Repeats it in English, for good measure.

 

His grin splits his face. "I love you," he chokes back in Parseltongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to try my hand at an experimental type fic. You may have noticed that I used a mirror-inverse ("chiasmus") structure for this story. 
> 
> The Parseltongue thing was woven in when I realised Ron's randomly acquired Parselmouth ability held great potential for romance. Speaking of which, I apologise for my awful rendering of the Parseltongue. I consulted the Parseltongue-inspired Fispa conlang on Frathwiki and used an IPA transcription engine, but overall I was utterly clueless.


End file.
